


Kaolinite

by alientongue, xenotongue (alientongue)



Series: Clay Summertime [1]
Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Beaches, Other, Past Relationship(s), Sexual Tension, Summer Vacation, berserker enkidu is a summer servant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:00:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25623289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alientongue/pseuds/alientongue, https://archiveofourown.org/users/alientongue/pseuds/xenotongue
Summary: There’s something wrong in their eyes. There’s something sharp and inhuman and unwavering.Reasonableisn’t the word to describe it. Ritsuka’s not sure she knows a word to describe it.Enkidu is still watching her with those eyes, patiently expectant, though, so she nods again and retraces her mental steps back over what she’s just agreed to. “You just want to tag along with everyone to the beach, right? And tell me if anything goes wrong so I can take care of it.”Enkidu's Berserker form makes a seasonal appearance.
Relationships: Enkidu | False Lancer/Gilgamesh | Archer, Enkidu | False Lancer/Gilgamesh | Caster
Series: Clay Summertime [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1864030
Comments: 4
Kudos: 68





	Kaolinite

“So,” Enkidu says, upbeat and serene as always, “I have decided to keep watch over the summer’s proceedings, should that goddess attempt anything of last year’s ilk.”

Ritsuka nods, more to be polite than anything else, and nibbles her lip, brow minutely furrowed. It’s a reasonable request; the Ishtar Cup had gotten well out of hand, and there are few as suited to confronting deities than Enkidu, who has even put together a new outfit for their proposal. It’s a reasonable outfit, too, especially considering much of Chaldea’s other warm-weather attire: shorts, sandals, an exceptionally baggy t-shirt, their hair pulled back into a loose green cascade of a ponytail…

But there’s something wrong in their eyes. There’s something sharp and inhuman and unwavering. _Reasonable_ isn’t the word to describe it. Ritsuka’s not sure she knows a word to describe it.

Enkidu is still watching her with those eyes, patiently expectant, though, so she nods again and retraces her mental steps back over what she’s just agreed to. “You just want to tag along with everyone to the beach, right? And tell me if anything goes wrong so I can take care of it.”

A quiet, breezy laugh, a hint of something like a jackal’s yip to it. Their ponytail sways in a fluid motion as they cock their head, eyes glinting. “You don’t need to concern yourself so much, Master. I’ll happily address any concerns that may arise.”

Ritsuka laughs, too, though if there’s a hint of anything in the sound it’s an acute sense of unsettled awkwardness. “Um, define ‘address’.”

The same slight, calm smile as always doesn’t feel quite right to see on their face—not in the sense that it no longer fits, but that it fits far too well into a different context entirely. “My apologies, Master. I lack a built-in dictionary function, but I’ll be happy to paraphrase, if you’d like.”

Wincing, sucking in a breath through gritted teeth and strained-upwards lips, Ritsuka tries again. “Paraphrase that you’re not going to kill anyone or go rabid, please?”

For a moment, Enkidu observes her. Then their eyes crinkle with the pleasant warmth of their smile, and the distinction between _threat_ and _threatening_ has never been clearer. “I won’t kill anyone or go rabid. Fortunately, I doubt Servants are even capable of contracting rabies.”

“That’s great,” Ritsuka says, because she might as well take some measure of reassurance from this.

“It is,” Enkidu agrees, and turns to leave, evidently satisfied in their pursuit of permission. There’s some pep in their sinuous stride, some wildcat’s eagerness to pounce, before the door slides shut behind them and their footsteps make no sound moving down the hall.

Couldn’t they manifest as a Berserker, come to think of it? Ritsuka really hopes that’s not the case.

* * *

It becomes eminently clear once Gilgamesh arrives at the beach that Enkidu has manifested as a Berserker.

Caster or not, he _knows_ them, forwards and backwards, inside and out, knows them so well it makes his chest ache whenever he lets the thought linger, and that knowledge is easily enough to make the difference in their magical energy no less than night and day. Two sides of the same coin, two halves of the same whole—the only difference being that one side, one half, is more likely to inflict bodily harm.

Risk assessment starts immediately. Most of the others pose no threat to the relative peace of the afternoon: Nero and Artoria Alter are of little interest to Enkidu, aside from Gilgamesh’s own Archer counterpart’s interest in the latter, and they’ve been unsuccessful in hiding a gentle fondness for Fran. Moriarty, they may try to approach, but Gilgamesh can easily enough distract them from that conversation—

He hears the puttering thrum of a motor scooter just in time for it to stop in the beach parking lot, and his stomach plunges directly into a pit of icewater.

Enkidu heard it long before he did, of course, and had already begun stalking up the beachfront. Smooth movement, quick but not rapid, disarmingly regular in its pace, exactly the way a predator’s gait should be. He recognizes in their posture, in their intent, wide-eyed expression, an intent to kill entirely without malice, only brutal certainty. He recognizes a second later that he’s already hurrying down the boardwalk to intercept them.

They stop at the foot of a dune before he can debate vaulting the railing to close the distance, they look right at him, and they beam. They’re wearing a very cute outfit, now that he actually takes them in rather than preemptively mitigating their damage. 

If his stomach was in icewater before, now it’s in knots; his heart feels like a melty lump of saltwater taffy. He swallows.

“Hi, Gil,” Enkidu calls, their voice drifting up on the breeze. Strands of their ponytail play across their bare arms, and a joyful, animal pleasure lights their expression. “Do you want to help me take care of that goddess too? Sharing meals is always nice.”

Gilgamesh can’t find it in himself to feel sick. The most he can manage is to huff and offer instead, “Let’s go get ice cream. Such stringy meat wouldn’t be satisfying.”

Nodding, Enkidu draws their legs under themselves, all coiled muscle and loose white fabric, before leaping the distance onto the boardwalk, landing neatly in front of him. It’s a subtle, slight smile of theirs, but it’s so _bright_. “You’re paying, right?”

He allows himself to smile back, only a little dopily. “Of course. What do you take me for? A king has ample riches to spare.”

They hum. “So I’m guessing those clothes were expensive, too?”

With a thumb and a forefinger, he smoothes down the crisp collar of his open shirt. “Naturally. This modern era is replete with luxury brands.”

Leaning closer, they tweak the other side of his collar. “Understated, for your tastes. Really, they just make your body stand out more.” Closer still, almost in his ear now, a vulpine lilt to their voice. “Who are you showing off for, King of Heroes? I thought you said you no longer had any right to appear before your most beloved friend.”

Gilgamesh’s throat abruptly feels very, very dry. The lump of taffy in his chest is hardly solid anymore. “Enkidu.” In the distance, there’s the roar of the crowd and the ocean, but much closer is the roar of his pulse and the soft rasp of their breath. “What do you mean by this?”

He hasn’t stopped walking, and they haven’t either, steps synced perfectly to his so that they sidle alongside him. “What do you think, Gil? Even a weapon suffers from disuse.” The muslin of their shirt and shorts does nothing to rein in their body heat. “You wouldn’t even have approached me were it not for that goddess’ arrival, would you?”

His breath doesn’t catch, but this is on part of a conscious effort. He can do nothing about the quickening of his heart. “...I am not _your_ Gilgamesh.”

“But I am your Enkidu,” they say without missing a beat, “and I’ve missed being so.”

Conscious effort fails him this time. A jittery exhale shudders past his lips.

They chuckle, a few strands of their hair brushing his nape. “My Lancer self wouldn’t say this, would they? Well, that’s alright. Everyone lets loose a bit during summer.”

Once again, he swallows. Tries to hide it behind a clearing of his throat, though hiding anything from them can only fail. “Once the summer ends, what do you expect to come of it, you fool?”

“Oh, nothing permanent.” The fingers on his collar skim down his bare chest in an instant, ghosting over his abdomen before the contact is gone. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy it, does it?”

His face burns. His face burns far too deeply.

Finally, finally they lean back, stepping away. During Enkidu’s whispers, they’d crossed nearly the length of the boardwalk; they’re currently a few steps away from a cluster of vendors. Had they planned this?

Though he has time to compose himself, it’s useless in the face of their renewed beaming. “Let’s start with ice cream. You’re still paying, right?”

Head spinning, Gilgamesh nods.

Enkidu’s eyes crinkle as their smile widens over razor-point fangs.

**Author's Note:**

> kaolinite is a variety of clay often found in tropical areas!
> 
> i just love enkidu so much and might do a continuation of this later


End file.
